


Tryst

by Blueismybusiness



Series: Tease Series [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Sex, Some angst of course, Sort of cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueismybusiness/pseuds/Blueismybusiness
Summary: Tsukki is a bad, bad boy.





	Tryst

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back~
> 
> Sup homies?! Sorry it took so long to toss out some more sexy times, but here I am, with your sexy time needs. *Sprinkles sexy time dust on you all* Have some KuroTsukki, for all you KuroTsukki sluts out there. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> BIMB :)
> 
> P.S. If you're just now popping in, you might wanna start with Tease or you may end up confused.

Warm puffs of breath heat his skin as Kuroo buries his face in the curve of his neck. Kei arches into the strong chest covering him, his head tilting back, and a drawn out moan forcing its escape from his parted lips. His long fingers scrabble for purchase, digging into the flesh of Kuroo’s back and smooth, black hair.

Kuroo plunges into him, hard and deep, keeping a steady rhythm like a heartbeat. One hand grasps at the back of one of Kei’s thighs, fingers digging into thick meat, pushing until he is stretched almost to his limit. Kei’s other leg is wrapped around Kuroo’s waist, the heel digging into hard glutes, straining to keep Kuroo as close as possible. Kuroo’s other hand grips at Kei’s shoulder, leaving bruises that will definitely stain his pale skin for days to come.

Kuroo groans, thrusting again and again, “Fuck, Tsukki…”

Kei replies by pulling at his hair, forcing Kuroo’s head up enough to meet him in a sloppy kiss. Kei wails shamelessly into Kuroo’s mouth, tightening the arm around his shoulders and rolling his hips to meet Kuroo’s thrusts.

This is the third time they’ve done this without the Shrimp. Shōyō is away for a weekend practice camp and Kei has snuck away to indulge his many fantasies with Kuroo.

Since that night, six months ago, Kei has been unable to get Kuroo out of his mind. What started out as innocent texting quickly morphed into flirty communications which then became sneaky, dirty sexts, and the occasional phone tryst when Shōyō’s practices ran late. Kei has never thought himself the cheating type, but when steak offers itself up on a silver platter, well…

Not that Shōyō was cheap ground beef or something, but this is _Kuroo_ . Kei has crushed on him for _years_ . Everyone knows you don’t give the junkie the very drug they crave and expect them to just _stop_.

At least, this is how Kei justifies his behavior as Kuroo’s large cock strokes his insides. So, he’ll hate himself—again—when he heads home tomorrow.

Right now, however, he wants to sob he’s so fucking blissed out. But that’s how sex is with Kuroo.

Kuroo slows to a stop, and Kei whines, rolling his hips insistently. Kuroo chuckles as he pants, pushing up onto his knees and slipping out of Kei with a soft grunt.

“What are you doing?” Kei demands, breathless and frustrated, glaring at Kuroo.

Kuroo smirks at him, tapping the side of his hip, “Roll over, I want to mount you.”

Kei bites his lip and suppresses a needy whine. Why does he have to talk like that? He rolls over, carefully moving his long legs so he doesn’t accidentally injure his lover. Kuroo pulls one of his many pillows from the top of the bed, and shoves it under Kei, who hisses from the friction on his ignored dick.

Kuroo positions himself between his legs. Warm, calloused hands cup his ass cheeks, the thumbs spreading him wide apart. One of those thumbs caresses his used hole, and Kei grinds back against it, eager for Kuroo to continue to fuck him into nirvana.

Kuroo leans over him, his presence as comforting as it is intimidating. His lips brush Kei’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You might wanna grab onto the headboard,” Kuroo purrs into Kei’s ear. Kei groans, pushing his ass back as he winds his slender fingers around the rails of wood as suggested.

The soft crown of Kuroo’s cock slips against his slick hole, and Kei clenches in anticipation just before he relaxes. Immediately after, Kuroo pushes past the outer muscle, slipping right back in as if he never left. The angle is very different, the length of Kuroo’s cock pressing firmly against Kei’s prostate.

“ _O-oh...g-od!_ ” Kei whines, his voice trembling with a whiny, sing-song quality that would normally shame him. Kei’s chest presses into the mattress, his thighs shaking both from the weight of Kuroo as he’s draped over him like a heavy, warm blanket, and the strain of holding his ass up so he can grind back as Kuroo hammers him, 89 plus kilos of muscle driving Kei through the mattress. This position gets Kuroo so deep the sensation borders on painful, making Kei’s toes curl and uncurl spasmodically. His grip on the headboard is so tight his fingers have gone ash white and are cramping, but he literally can’t form real words to complain—and even if he could, Kei would tell Kuroo to go harder.

Kuroo leans further over him, his hands are tucked beneath Kei’s armpits, and his arms bend at the elbow, the movement barely throwing off his rhythm. He plants sloppy kisses along Kei’s shoulders, groaning as he goes, before his lips are felt at Kei’s ear. His deep voice is raspy as Kuroo growls, “You like that, Tsukki?”

Kei has lost the ability to reply using normal human communication, so he simply moans his approval, “ _Mmmmahhhh…_ ”

Kuroo chuckles, the bass of his voice rumbling through his chest and rolling up Kei’s back. The feel of it is better than the pounding bass of Kei’s favorite music when he listens with his headphone jacked up on the loudest possible volume.

“Shit Tsukki,” Kuroo continues, “you take me so well. I love fucking you.”

Kei can’t help but feel an immense sense of pride from those words. Kuroo is by no means a man whore, but that didn’t mean he lacks experience, obviously. Kei knows he’s had several other partners. He also knows that Kuroo isn’t just saying these things out of pleasure; words that sometimes get shared in the moment of euphoria. Even though they spent a lot of their conversations flirting and turning each other on long distance, they’ve also shared many moments in honest intimacy. Kuroo maybe a provocateur on the court, but as a person he’s as genuine as they come, even if he can be dorky and sappy.

“Gon...cuummm…hah...cummm…” Tsukki cries, his cock throbbing as it rubs against the soft fabric of the pillow beneath him. His orgasm builds, low in his gut, sending shivers down his spine.

“Yeah?” Kuroo whispers and kisses him, his lips warm against the spot just below his ear. Kuroo shoves a hand between the pillow and Kei, strong fingers wrapping around his shaft while the thumb gathers the precum that’s been steadily dripping from Kei’s dick and soaking the pillowcase. It doesn’t take more than a few strokes to slather the entirety of Kei’s length, easing the friction from something rough to smooth. Kuroo tugs and twists his wrist in ways that has Kei wailing into a pillow, his teeth clenching the material because he can’t bite Kuroo.

“That’s it, Tsukki,” Kuroo moans into his ear. He increases the force behind his thrusts. “That’s it, come for me. Be a good boy and come on my cock.”

And that’s how Kei’s short life ends, repeatedly impaled on Kuroo’s thick cock. His brain explodes into a thousand fireworks, his muscles tensing like rigor mortis. His back bows, the curve forcing his ass up just a tad more. Kei throws his head back, making contact with Kuroo’s shoulder, his mouth hanging open. At first he’s silent, the impact of his orgasm rendering him voiceless. However, lacking any control in the moment, the pleasure forces itself up and out of Kei’s wide open mouth in a high pitched, broken howl.

“ _Hahh-ahhhhhhhhh! Huhhhfuuuuuk!”_

Warm, thick cum creams Kuroo’s hand and pillow, and Kuroo slows his thrusts, though not the force behind them, rolling his hips in drawn out waves. Kei’s prostate has never been this abused, but _damn_ does it feel magnificent.

In the midst of Kei’s orgasm, Kuroo claims his. Teeth clamping down onto Kei’s shoulder, sharp and bruising. He growls loudly, the sound of it almost as if he is in copious amounts of pain. His thighs shake as Kei's walls pulse like a throbbing heartbeat, milking Kuroo’s climax as he spills load after load into the condom.

They both collapse at the same time, Kuroo still spread out over Kei. He pulls his hand out from beneath Kei, smearing cum up Kei’s abs and a part of his chest. Eventually and with great effort, Kuroo manages to roll off him, falling onto the mattress onto his back next to Kei. For a while, the only sound is their panting and the low mummer of the tv in the living room.

“Holy shit,” Kuroo says, breaking the comfortable silence that had built between them.

Kei lazily turns his head to face Kuroo. His body is sated, heavy, and limp. His post-orgasmic high is wearing off, which means the guilt is settling in. Kei really hates this part. Still, he smiles at Kuroo.

“Yeah,” he replies.

Kuroo grins at him, rolling over to gather Kei into his arms, pulling him into his chest. Kei buries himself in the warmth, breathing deeply of fresh sex and Kuroo’s heady scent. Kuroo tickles his back, random patterns being etched out with fondness and maybe...maybe something more.

  


**~O~**

  


Kei lets himself into the dorm room he shares with Shōyō, his mind preoccupied with the disappointed way Kuroo watched him as he walked out of his apartment. They’ve never actually talked about what they’re doing, having gotten almost professional level at skirting the dark topic. It’s just always been an unspoken rule that Kei returns home to Shōyō when all is said and done.

That’s the problem though. While Kei really _really_ likes Kuroo, he also really _really_ likes Shōyō; neither man negates his affection for the other. Kei enjoys both in different ways, but emotionally it’s all the same. He genuinely cares about both Kuroo and Shōyō, and wants to, basically, have his cake and eat it too.

Is it selfish? Probably. But Kei can’t bring himself to choose between the two, so he settles on taking advantage of both their time and feelings.

He’s always been told he’s an asshole.

As Kei slips off his shoes at the entrance and glances up into the kitchenette on reflex, his movements slow exponentially when his eyes land on his boyfriend who sits at their small, low dining table, looking as if he’d been waiting all this time for Kei to come home. It seems that he won’t have to make a choice after all.

“Shō…” Kei says, standing up slowly and the bland expression he wears so often falls over his face.

“A pipe burst at camp, flooding the place, so we were sent home early yesterday. I would have called...or texted...but I wanted to surprise you. We haven’t been able to...to spend a whole... lot of time...together since...”

Shōyō’s voice trails off, the end of his sentence needing no conclusion. They’ve been way busy with university, Shōyō especially because of volleyball. As hard as it was to sync schedules with Shōyō, if it weren’t for Kei’s diligence and Kuroo’s close proximity, _their_ little têt-à-têts would have been impossible.

Shōyō watches Kei as he stands awkwardly by the door, unsure what to do or say.

“Is it Kuroo?” Shōyō whispers, his big, brown eyes shimmering wetly, and Kei suddenly feels like the biggest piece of shit. He never wanted this. He supposes he could lie or something, but the effort of being deceitful—or being deceitful any longer—is nullified by Kei’s desire to just be plain honest with his boyfriend. This is his mess, after all.

“Yes,” Kei admits. He doesn’t bother with excuses or explanations, that won’t help either one of them.

More tears gather in Shōyō’s eyes, his bottom lip trembling as he bites it and looks away. Kei very much wants to punch himself in the nuts for being such a dick. What kind of person makes Hinata Shōyō cry?

“Shō...” Kei begins, taking a half-step forward, one hand reaching toward his small, broken boyfriend.

“Are you going to leave me?” Shōyō interrupts, his voice quiet and quivering.

Kei pauses and sighs. He wants to go to Shōyō, wrap him in his arms and kiss his sweet face. He wants to tell him that he never wanted to leave in the first place, it’s just that he’s a greedy son-of-a-bitch who was only thinking of himself.

But that’s not his place. It’s not his choice. Not anymore.

“Do you want me too?” Kei asks instead, hesitant. Kei’s heart beats a hectic rhythm behind his rib cage, and his chest feels so tight he’s finding it difficult to draw full breaths of air. It seems as if everything around them stills as Shōyō remains quiet and Kei awaits his decision. Shōyō continues to avoid eye contact and bite his lip, but he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and Kei almost doesn’t notice it.

Kei releases a breath of relieved air. “I don’t want to leave either,” he assures Shōyō. His boyfriend finally looks up but he doesn’t look as certain.

Shōyō’s cheeks redden and he glances away; it’s almost a shy action. “Do you like him more than me?”

Kei isn’t quite sure what to make of this conversation, but he refuses to waste the opportunity. If Shōyō isn’t gonna throw him out on his ass then Kei is going to make sure he knows that he wants him just as much as he does Kuroo. It takes Kei less than three strides to make it from the entrance to the table Shōyō kneels at, before he’s on his knees as well, his hands cupping Shōyō’s soft cheeks.

“No, Shō, no,” Kei plants a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s pink lips, “It’s not like that.”

Shōyō’s brown eyes search his, doubt clouding them. “Then, am I not enough?” He asks, pitifully, and Kei’s heartbreaks.

“ _God_ no, Shōyō, you are _more_ than enough!” Kei answers, pouring every ounce of sincerity he can into his words.

Shōyō purses his lips, frustration darkening his features. Still, he hasn’t pulled away.

“Then what do you _want_ Kei?”

Kei stares into Shōyō’s eyes for a moment, fear, worry, and sadness dulling their usually bright hue to a flat brown. Kei knows what he wants to say but he’s afraid of what it might cost him. The truth is he wants them both and he doesn’t think he could give up either if it came down to it.

Once again, he settles for the truth. “I want you…” A small smile breaks out over Shōyō’s face, “...and I want him.” Shōyō freezes, and Kei pulls back, dropping his hands to his lap. This is the truth of it, and now the ball lies in his boyfriend’s court.

Shōyō gazes back at him, an intensity that Kei has seen before, and is still unused to, washing over his face. “And Kuroo,” he asks, “What does he want?”

Kei shrugs, “We haven’t talked about it.”

Shōyō’s expression morphs into incredulity before he sighs, “Then let’s ask him.”

Shock stiffens the muscles in Kei’s face, “What?”

“Let’s ask him.”

“Shō, do you think that’s the best…”

“I want to know what Kuroo thinks, Kei.” Determination has set in his boyfriend’s expression like concrete, and Kei knows he’s lost. Besides, as uncomfortable as this may be, Shōyō at least deserves this.

Kei pulls out his phone, prepared to make the call, but a hand covers his. He looks up to meet Shōyō’s gaze.

“Don’t call him,” Shōyō commands, and Kei blinks at him, bafflement widening his eyes.

“How else do you expect me to ask him?” Kei questions, one eyebrow raised.

“You video call him, don’t you?”

“You know about that?” Kei asks, taken aback that Shōyō might have known all along.

“I do now,” Shōyō scoffs in reply. Kei’s breath hitches and his face warms with a blush of shame.

“I’m sorry, Shō.” Kei is honestly, truly penitent.

Shōyō doesn’t answer, getting up to grab his laptop, and turning it on. When it boots, there is a wallpaper of them on one of the many dates they’ve been on since getting together. Kei remembers the moment the picture was snapped, and he’s overcome with bittersweet regret, wondering if he’s perhaps made the biggest mistake of his young life to date.

“You can sign on here,” Shōyō states.

Kei sighs, resigned, and turns the computer toward him. He does as requested and when the video app loads, he goes right to Kuroo’s screen name, all of their messages and the time they spent video chatting (and more) recorded for Shōyō to see. Kei sneaks a peek at him from the corner of his eye, Shōyō’s darting around the screen as he takes in the reality of Kei’s and Kuroo’s secret relationship. Luckily, Kei’s relationship with Shōyō wasn’t anything where he would feel the need to blacken Shōyō’s name. He has that at least.

The indicator next to Kuroo’s name signals that he’s home and online, most likely doing homework and hoping Kei will contact him. Kei feels a little nauseated as he clicks the call button. Kuroo doesn’t waste time and picks up immediately.

“Hey, sexy…” Kuroo begins but trails off when he notices Shōyō sitting next to him. “Chibi…” Kuroo nervously clears his throat.

No one needs to confirm that everyone is now aware of the situation and this promises to be one of those _really_ awkward, _really_ tense conversations.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't let the end fool you, I was just too lazy to write the happy ending. It'll come up later on. Until next time! *waves*
> 
> Feel free to comment/kudos, they are the lifeblood that keeps this nasty creative train chuggin'.


End file.
